


Greyhounds and Question Marks

by ncruuk



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: Just another day at the Tower of London, nothing out of the ordinary.At least, that's what probably happened at the bit of the Tower that the tourists see.In Kate Stewart's outer office, Fran Waincroft is trying to find out where Kate's got to as she's late for her 11am meeting and she's got a lunch meeting that can't be rescheduled. So it's just another day, business as usual in fact, even when the demonstration by Chem-3 goes wrong...Apart from the question marks...





	Greyhounds and Question Marks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidLifeLez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidLifeLez/gifts).



> Another Kate/Osgood one-shot - it will make even more sense the more you've read of my Kate/Osgood stories but there are no spoilers.

"I see."  Tapping her pen against her notepad, Fran Waincroft looked up and smiled a long-suffering smile at the woman waiting in her office while the voice on the other end of the phone continued their explanation.  "But she's on her way now?"  Fran glanced at her computer screen and nudged the mouse to deactivate the screensaver.  "Thank you."

 

"Any sightings?"

 

"She's on her way," confirmed Fran, bringing up her boss's diary and considering what her options were.  "Apparently Chem-3 were a bit over-excited when they were displaying the new prototypes and ended up putting on an extended display.  But she's on her way now..."

 

"Chem-3?"  Tabitha Groenwald, although most people were encouraged to call her Tabby, didn't understand science.  Or soldiers.  She was never quite sure which she found more confusing - in her experience, both spoke in either short, totally incomprehensible sentences full of codes and acronyms or long, completely unfathomable paragraphs that were usually delivered in a flat monotone that sent her to sleep.  "Are they the ones with the stink bombs?"  She was, however, after three months or so of working at UNIT, discovering that here both were as incomprehensible as she’d anticipated but she hadn’t fallen asleep once during a meeting...but then she’d never worked in an organisation that produced stink bombs by accident… or for someone who described the dome of St Paul’s Cathedral opening up like a Terry’s Chocolate Orange to be ‘unfortunate’.

 

"No, that was Bio-6 last month."  Fran shuddered at that particular experimental mishap - to call them stink bombs was actually putting it, well, fragrantly.  "Which reminds me..." She made a note to follow up with the Biohazard Containment team as their draft report was long overdue and would almost certainly require re-writes once Dr Stewart's red pen had gone through it.  "No, Chem-3 are the joint research group with exo-biology..."

 

"Oh, the glow-in-the-dark bouncy people..."  Tabby remembered them now.  "I hadn't realised they'd combined with the Chemists."

 

"It turned out they hadn't," said Kate Stewart, coming appearing from the corridor, coffee mug in hand.  "At least, not at room temperature.  Sorry I'm late Tabby..."  Kate hung a large umbrella with a curved wooden handle on the coat stand just inside the door and started to remove her wellington boots which, as with the umbrella, were in UNIT red.

 

"What happened?" asked Fran, rather more used to her boss' cryptic half explanations than most and no longer too nervous to ask for the whole story.  "And do you need to be dry cleaned?"

 

"I'm washable today."  

 

Kate looked down at her clothes, as if making doubly certain that she hadn't been redressed in different clothes when she hadn't been paying attention.  Following her gaze, the other two women looked down at her feet which were neatly clad in socks...with question marks on them. She looked back up at Fran, who was more surprised by the declaration than the question marks, more used to her boss wearing suits that had to be dry cleaned if they were caught up in an alien related or lab accident.  

 

"I've got the lunch?  With the Yurtapi Ambassador and her..."  Kate could never remember what the correct way was to describe the familial grouping of a Yurtapi, who were short, stocky aliens with an alarming resemblance to the Wombles.  "Entourage."  As alien species went, they were charming and delightful, with an unexpected love of the Isle of Wight that saw them return year after year for holidays and celebrations.  This latest group had been visiting to help the Ambassador celebrate the Yurtap equivalent of her 100th birthday, and Kate was looking forward to being able to offer her best wishes on behalf of UNIT and Earth before the Ambassador returned to Yurtap.

 

"But no, I survived Chem-3 without being contaminated.  Fortunately I was upwind when the capsules started exploding on impact."  McGillop on the other hand, had not been so lucky and was currently a rather unfortunate luminous orange if left in the dark, a side effect Kate hoped would wear off before he came to take the tube home.  If it didn’t, they could have a bit of a civilian panic on their hands come the evening rush-hour….but could have been worse - at least he wasn't floating as well.  “And the wellingtons and umbrella dealt with the sprinklers.”

 

"That’s a relief."  Fran mentally crossed off the three items that had been provisionally on her to do list when she'd discovered that Kate had been persuaded to go and see the demonstration.  She’d learned the hard way that it was always a good idea to ensure that there was some slack in Kate's diary after a Chem department demonstration should either full decontamination or a quick shower be necessary.  

 

"In which case, you're only running forty minutes late for your 11 o'clock..." Fran looked pointedly in Tabitha's direction, the UNIT HR Director having already known to turn up twenty minutes late for her meeting with Kate, "...I'm rescheduling your 12 o'clock to next week..."  

 

“You’ve moved Brockenhurst to next week?”  Normally, it was impossible to shift the elderly archivist more than a day or two in the diary when a meeting needed to be rescheduled.

 

“He’s on leave the rest of the week.  Something about being Wallop cubed?”  Fran hadn’t understood his reason for insisting the meeting would have to now be next week but clearly Kate knew what it meant.

 

“His sister lives in one of the Wallops, makes homemade parsnip and rhubarb wine that should technically be classified as an unstable explosive and they always come last in the Wallop Bridge Tournament.”

 

“Wallop the village, wallop the wine and…” Fran was missing a Wallop.

 

“...thumping defeat at Bridge?” volunteered Tabby, having suffered a fair few ‘wallops’ at dominos during summer holidays with her grandparents.

 

“Quite. And thank you, for moving Brockenhurst to next week.”  That piece of news earned Fran a wink and a grin from Kate, who never enjoyed her meetings with the Archivist whenever she had to break the news that the Doctor had acquired a new Companion and could he please start a new cross-reference classification?  She knew she should never take it personally, but Brockenhurst did always seem to imply it was her fault the Doctor kept collecting someone new and previously unheard of, rather than borrowing someone already indexed like Martha Jones or even one of the Torchwood lot.

 

“Jenkins is picking you up at 1… he’s just collecting the hamper from Fortnum’s.”  They had no idea if the Yurtap enjoyed the brightly coloured tins or the biscuits more, but it had become a tradition that Kate was happy to keep going if it saw the Ambassador and her entourage continue to enjoy their journey home after each visit - apparently the tins were greatly prized gifts amongst the Ambassador’s friends and relations, with Kate privately concluding that the complete lack of mention of the biscuits was because they’d all been eaten before the tins made it to the Yurtap system.

 

“Is he using one of the Land Rovers or the car? And does he know to bring me back to the Tower afterwards?” 

 

“He didn’t say.  Would you like me to check?”  Which was Fran speak for ‘why are you making a mess of all our plans?’ and Kate knew it.

 

“Please.”  Mouthing an apology at her very patient HR Director, Kate knew she owed Fran and, by extension, Jenkins, an explanation.  “The Yurtapi ‘birthday’ is actually the point that they celebrate the start of their quinquennial moult - every five of their years, they grow into a new fur and shed their previous one, changing colour in the process.”  Kate glanced down at her clothes again.  “I understand the Ambassador is in the process of discarding her current magenta and starting to favour a more understated lavender tone…”  She chuckled when she saw both Tabby and Fran wince at the colours.  “I thought I should avoid bright colours…” she explained, gesturing to her dark grey trousers and paler grey top which, with her beige raincoat had made Fran wonder if there was an undeclared funeral somewhere in Kate’s plans for the day when she’d seen her first thing.  “So no, I’m not in mourning Fran, but I do need to come back to the Tower before I go home and not use one of the usual cars…and change my socks.”

 

“Of course.”  Suddenly understanding, Fran rejigged her mental to-do list again, now including checking with Jenkins and making sure that there was some time kept blocked out in Kate’s diary this afternoon for her to change and generally de-fluff.  “I’ll organise for your clothes to be sent out for cleaning from here?”  Fran thought for a moment.  “Actually, I’ll organise for you to change in the Troop Mess.”  Maria Walsh would understand and that way, Kate wouldn’t track Yurtapi moult too far into the Tower.

 

“Os will love you more than me if you keep having ideas like that Fran…” promised Kate, incredibly grateful for the suggestion.

 

“Hardly Dr Stewart.”  Fran knew Kate was exaggerating as there was nothing that would ever shake Osgood’s affection for the blonde, but it was a lovely compliment nevertheless.

 

“She strained three rib muscles last time, when I forgot to get my raincoat cleaned...I left it in my office and then wore it about a week later.”  

 

Osgood didn’t cope well with furry and feathered animals or birds, having allergies to both dogs and cats that saw her wheezing almost as soon as she was exposed to their dander, while duck feathers made her sneeze.  Unfortunately, there was something about Yurtapi fur that made her do both, simultaneously, a discovery they’d made rather unexpectedly when Kate had gone to give Osgood a welcome home kiss while wearing the aforementioned raincoat.  It had, at least, helped ensure Osgood quickly forgot about the tedious Geneva trip she'd just returned home from, but they'd both agreed that it was a distraction technique that should be kept for only the most extreme of crises. 

 

“Ah.”  Fran smiled, glad to have one of her personal mysteries cleared up - she remembered Osgood struggling with her ribs, but had never actually got an explanation as to what had caused the injuries and, at the time she’d felt too new to ask for one.

 

“Thanks.  Right, sorry about that Tabby…”  Kate gave her HR Director her full attention.  “I’m all yours until 1 o’clock…but I have no idea why you want me...”  Kate gestured for her still rather new HR Director to precede her into her office, shooting a ‘behave’ smirk in Fran’s direction when she heard the unique hiccuping cough noise that she knew was Fran trying not to laugh. 

 

“That’s my fault…”  Tabitha stopped, realising she’d failed to let Fran know the specifics of this particular meeting.  “I was hoping to talk to you about Policy 5-22…”  The HR Director picked up her papers and headed into her boss’s office, still not really used to the idea of it having the actual Crown Jewels in display cabinets, with the ones on show ‘upstairs’ in the Tower being very sophisticated holographic projections.

 

“Ah.”  Kate shut the door behind her, and headed for the armchairs around the coffee table.  “5-22  _ is  _ the one known as friendships, flings and…”  Her HR director cut across her before she could finish what the third ‘f’ in the policy’s more colloquial title was.

 

“Liaisons that rhyme with ducks?  Yes.”  Tabby frowned, not quite sure how to broach what she needed to raise - she hadn’t marked Kate down as being a prude or a cold fish, but this was throwing herself into the deep end of staff issues, even without the aliens.   “It needs to be comprehensively rewritten, quickly.”

 

“Okay.”  So far, Kate wasn’t hearing anything that was alarming her - she knew that a lot of work was needed on most of the UNIT HR policies and procedures but she’d been rather stuck as long as there hadn’t been someone with the right experience with both military and R&D organisations.

 

“I’m not sure where I’m supposed to draw the line...”

 

“At the edge?”  Not following her HR Director’s logic, Kate stood up and went to retrieve her glasses from her desk, anticipating being given something to read.  

 

“I’m already having it redrafted so it doesn’t exclude same-sex relationships...”  Tabby had expected to get more of a reaction to that change given some of the...personalities she’d come across in the dustier parts of the organisation, but had been rather surprised by the indifference and casual acceptance of it.

 

“Os will be pleased…”  Kate sat down again, crossing her right leg over her left, took the paper that Tabby was holding out, giving it a skim.  “...that seems fairly reasonable,” she added, handing it back to the HR Director who was looking at  Kate’s right foot.  “Problem?”

 

“Hmm?”  Startled out of her thoughts, Tabby blushed.  “I think....” she cleared her throat, embarrassed.  “I think I’ve just worked something out…”

 

“Involving my foot?” asked Kate, looking at said part of her anatomy.  “I’m not going to have to approve a suitable footwear policy am I?”

 

“Sock, not foot…” muttered Tabby, before blinking and looking first at the wall behind her Boss’s head which didn’t help her nerves as she’d forgotten that was the Imperial State Crown, and then finally focussing on an amused Kate.  “Permission to blurt out something?”

 

“Blurt away.”  Kate had a pretty good idea what Tabby was about to blurt, but decided to get confirmation rather than guess.

 

“Are those Osgood’s socks?”

 

Kate had to hand it to her HR Director - that was not how she’d expected to confirm that it wasn’t just Osgood who was pleased Policy 5-22 was being re-written a bit more inclusively...

 

* * *

  
  


“What made her ask that?”  

 

Osgood dried her hands on the tea towel and leaned against the kitchen counter while she found her glasses cleaning cloth in her pocket, having already been relieved to hear that the new HR Director was making good progress with the policy reviews Kate had wanted.  She wasn’t surprised to hear that Tabby was struggling to find a non-discriminatory word formulation that succinctly explained that relationships with aliens were not prohibited under 5-22 but nor were they endorsed or permitted if that was in contradiction to an existing species specific treaty.  Equal opportunities was becoming something of an accidental minefield and consequently rather tricky to implement given some of the theoretically possible opportunities within the UNIT environment, particularly during the alien diplomacy internship season...  

 

“Umm…”  Suddenly realising she’d dropped herself in it, Kate put her hands deep into her trouser pockets and tried to work out how to extricate herself from her own hole while knowing she was already caught.

 

“Why were you wearing my socks?”  Osgood took her glasses off and started cleaning the lenses.

 

“Can I pretend it’s because I got dressed in the dark this morning?” asked Kate finally, waiting for her girlfriend to put her glasses back on.

 

“Yes.”  Osgood put her glasses back on and looked at Kate without the irritating specks of dust ruining the view.  “If you want to, but it still doesn’t explain why you were wearing my socks.”  She folded up the glasses cleaning cloth and put it back in her pocket.  “We don’t share a sock drawer…”

 

“...not been sharing anything much this month…” grumbled Kate quietly, catching her bottom lip between her teeth in a belated act of self-censorship.  

 

Osgood had been away for the last six weeks, visiting the originally named VLT in Chile to make sure that the new Very Large Telescope Array wasn’t seeing things UNIT would prefer it not to see.  She’d got back to London while Kate had been doing her bit for Earth-Yurtapi interplanetary diplomacy with some shortbread and macaroons and had immediately had to go into the Tower to try and help Chem-3 work out how to tone down McGillop’s luminosity.  

 

During those same six weeks, the rest of the Tower had, depending on their seniority and scientific discipline, either been trying to stay out of an unusually restless Greyhound One’s way (95% of the Tower), thinking (but never saying aloud, after all, these were Greyhounds they were thinking about) how it was rather sweet how much Greyhound One was missing Greyhound Two (4.95% of the Tower, which now included Tabby as of this morning) or teasing Kate (Max, Winifred Bambera and Fran, but mostly Max and Win).

 

“Can I come with you next time?”  Kate took her hands out of her pockets and griped the edge of the kitchen counter behind her.

 

“Next time will be the GMT in about 2021 and the E-ELT in 2028…”  Osgood moved around the kitchen table so she was stood next to her girlfriend.

 

“Giant Microwave Telescope?”

 

“Magellan, and it's optical not microwave…”  Osgood rested her hands lightly on Kate’s hips and started to gently trace squiggly patterns with her fingertips.  “And the European-Extremely Large Telescope…”  Leaning forwards, Osgood brushed her nose against Kate’s before dipping her head down and catching the corner of her girlfriend’s mouth with a kiss, continued to duck her head until she could reach  _ that _ spot on her lover’s neck that saw Kate make that wonderful humming sigh sound that meant so much to Osgood.

 

“O...s…”  Kate was torn between wanting to sink her fingers into soft brown hair and feeling like she’d collapse in a puddle of goo if she let go of the kitchen counter.

 

“Next time…” Osgood traced the familiar contours of Kate’s neck with soft kisses as she worked her way back up to her girlfriend’s chin.

 

“The Giant... M...Magellan Telescope…”  Kate was determined to at least show she was paying attention to what Osgood was telling her even if she was making it incredibly difficult for Kate to concentrate on anything other than where she was being kissed.

 

“Someone else…” Osgood worked her way along her lover’s jaw, kisses becoming longer as she interpreted Kate’s arched neck as encouragement.  “...can go…” she whispered, reaching Kate’s ear.

 

“Oh?”  Sensing a brief pause in the kissing, Kate decided she was able to let go of the counter and slip her hands around Osgood’s waist and up inside the back of her girlfriend’s shirt.

 

“It’s the easier task to delegate…” Osgood’s nose twitched as she tried to wiggle her glasses into a more comfortable position.

 

“Easier than what?” Kate began to gently stroke up and down Os’s spine, mixing in various swirly circles and squiggles as she tried to coax her to lean forwards, wanting to feel as much of her lover as she could and taking her girlfriend's mind very much off her glasses.

 

“Sock guard.”  Osgood let go of Kate’s hips, amused when she saw the immediate look of disappointment appear on Kate’s face, not sure if it was because she’d moved her hands or not forgotten about the socks.  Putting her hands on the kitchen counter, enabling her to brace some of her weight with her arms and therefore not feel like she was about to squish her lover, Os shifted her feet forwards a bit and bent her knees just enough for her hips to press more firmly against Kate’s.

 

“Very demanding job…” agreed Kate, increasing the pressure of her strokes to encourage Os to keep going.  “Impossible to recruit I’d imag...mmm….”  Words became overrated when, with the accuracy and precision that more than a decade’s experience of loving each other brought, Os’s lips found that exact same spot on her neck again, before teasing and kissing her way back up to Kate’s mouth as she sank into Kate’s embrace…

 

* * *

 

 

“Os?”  

 

“Mmm?”

 

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

 

“Me too…”  Osgood leaned forwards and stole another brief kiss before carefully rebalancing on her own feet, not wanting to stop at just that kiss but now remembering there were more comfortable places to catch up on six weeks of missed kisses and more with Kate.  “...are my socks safe again?”

 

“Very safe…”  Kate took her girlfriend’s hand and gave it a gentle pull as she slipped out from between Os and the kitchen counter, her message clear - there was somewhere far more comfortable they could continue this conversation.  “...now you’re back…”  In the evenings and at weekends she’d found herself gravitating to Os’s shirts and jumpers, finding the familiar patterns and colours that she instinctively associated with her lover comforting and reassuring while she waited for her return.  Wearing Os’s distinctively patterned socks inside her boots whenever she’d needed to wear them had started by accident in the second week Os was away but had become a habit by the fourth week and an everyday occurrence as the final few days had crept by at a painfully slow snail-like pace.  “I love your question marks, but I love you more.”  Turning out the kitchen light, arms wrapped around each other, they headed for the stairs.

 

“That makes two of us...me loving you more I mean...”

 

Pausing in the hall, Osgood unwound her arm from Kate’s shoulders and reached for her duffle coat, slipping her hand in the right pocket and pulling out a square of pale blue fabric which she put in Kate’s hand.  “I think she misses her twin…”  she said, closing Kate’s hand around the single silver greyhound cufflink which was fastened through the buttonhole in the middle of the square of fabric in Osgood’s favourite shade of blue.  “Just like I missed the real thing...”  And, w ith a final check that they had properly shut and locked the front door they headed upstairs where a pair of Greyhounds were reunited after six weeks apart…

 

....as were Kate and Osgood. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the VLT really does exist and really does stand for the Very Large Telescope. The E-ELT is currently under construction (European-Extremely Large Telescope) which is the scaled back plan that replaced the originally planned OWL Telescope (Overwhelmingly Large Telescope).
> 
> Seriously. I'm not joking ;-)
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
